by Kim Cayer
Dottie was starting up again, even after the pummeling she took from Gravedigger. Are you nuts, girl? Fortunately for Dottie, Gravedigger was in the john so the guard (Gilda again) merely gave our sissy a shake.
She was silent a moment and I saw Gravedigger emerge from the washroom, yawn and crawl back into bed. Dottie started her whimpering again. It was starting to get louder and I saw Gravedigger sit up.
“What the hell’s the matter?” I whispered, wanting her to shut her trap before I started thrashing her. She stopped crying and poked her head out from under the blankets.
“Who said that?” she asked, looking around.
“Me,” I replied. “Why are you crying all the time? Christ.”
“You don’t really want to know,” Dottie said, lip snarling. Well, as a matter of fact, I was curious as to what possessed her to spend her every waking moment crying.
“Sure,” I said all friendly-like, “tell me.”
Her lip unfolded and her bloodshot eyes brightened a bit. “Really?” she said, unbelievingly. I nodded. “Let’s sit together at breakfast and I’ll tell you, OK?” I nodded again. Gee, a breakfast date.
In the line-up, Dottie stood right behind me. She was going to make sure I sat with her. Ever since I’d said I would listen to her story, she hadn’t uttered a peep; just stared at me with puppy-dog eyes. I grabbed my breakfast tray and didn’t look as my egg was slid onto a plate. I KNOW there was blood in the yolk; isn’t that dangerous? Besides the egg, we had porridge and a slice of bread. I spotted a table near the back wall that was still empty and I walked over, Dottie trailing an inch from my tailbone.
She started speaking as soon as we sat down. “Here,” she said, “you can have my egg. I don’t want it.” If it was possible, her egg looked worse than mine. I didn’t want it either but I suspected she was making a gesture of friendship.
“Thanks,” I said.
“I just want you to know that I appreciate the fact you want to hear my story,” Dottie said. “You’re the first one! Everyone thinks that because I cry all the time, that I’m crazy. But I’m not crazy.”
“Neither am I,” I said. “So what makes you cry so much?”
“No one’s had the life I’ve had,” Dottie said. Right away, I thought, Oh yeah? “The reason I’m in this place, in a criminal institution, is because I set fire to a house that my lover was in. He was going to leave me because I wouldn’t leave my husband. My husband was a black witch though, and if I left him, he would cast a spell on me and eat our children. So I told him about the fire and he was proud of me and then he brought me to a witches’ meeting and I told them, but there was an informant in the group. He went to the police but I escaped before they came into my house. I was in the back yard and found my can of gasoline and I lit my house on fire. I wanted them to find a body and think I was dead, but instead they found out it was my husband’s body. So they found me living in a room on Skid Row and arrested me. I admitted that I committed a couple murders lately but I was upset that my life had so fallen to pieces, and I couldn’t stop crying. They figured I belonged in a mental institution! If only I could have talked to someone like you, then I would have gone to a nice normal prison. This place is terrible! There are real lunatics here!”
“Yeah, a couple, I guess,” I said. I was talking to one.
“Shit,” Dottie said, glancing around. “Aretha…over there? She thinks she’s the Virgin Mary and went around to over a hundred churches busting up statues of the Virgin because they didn’t look like her. Toni? She’s here ‘cuz she was castrating bums while they slept…Sky because she wants to be a terrorist for any country…Why are you here anyways?”
I knew it was coming. I was in an institution filled with murderers and I was there because of a nervous breakdown. I pretended to still be chewing a mouthful of porridge while I decided what to tell her. If I told the truth, I might be considered a wimp and word would go around and then I’d end up as the new punching bag. Finally, after a swallow of coffee, I came up with an idea. I’d tell her the truth, but would slightly embellish it.
“Murder, drug dealing, armed robbery,” I listed. “The cops were hounding me all the time and I finally had a nervous breakdown.” I put it as flippantly as possible but Dottie wasn’t overly impressed.
“Oh, you’re probably just borderline crazy,” she said.
“I don’t think I’m crazy at all,” I replied.
“Neither am I,” Dottie said.
“Are you going to be doing any more crying?” I asked.
“Oh, no! I feel SO much better! And now that I don’t feel like crying, the doctor will see I’m better and send me to a prison instead,” Dottie said, actually quite happy now.
And so she should have been, with the hope of real prison in her future. When I got better, I’d get sent back to my life in NYC.
* * *
I tried to keep to myself again that day but Dottie would sit on my bed and have a chat every now and then. Other inmates were giving us weird looks. If it was possible, I was feeling even more nervous. Was Dottie a snitch and now I was in cahoots with her? Is that what they thought? But if I ignored Dottie, I just knew she’d find a way to torch my bed. I was in a no-win situation.
It was nearing the end of my second day at the institution. We’d eaten our supper, the blandest meal I’d ever eaten. Plain rice and a piece on unseasoned baked fish. Vanilla pudding for dessert. That made six white courses I’d eaten today. Lunch was the highlight of my day. At least the boiled cabbage had a hint of green to it.
Once again, it was session time with the doctor. I was seated between Dottie and Pussie. As we waited for the doctor, I felt Pussie brush her chair against mine. She got real close to me so I inched a bit nearer to Dottie. I glanced at Pussie, hoping she wouldn’t notice and get insulted and kill me. I almost lost my pudding. There was a huge mound of pus settling on her collarbone. It dripped in a slow-travelling river from a picked-off scab near her chin.
I got up and took a tissue out of a box. Wadding it up, I drifted back to my seat and passed it over to Pussie. She came to life; she opened it up quickly and searched for its contents. Finding it empty, she looked at me quizzically.
“It’s a Kleenex,” I said. “You’re…dripping from your chin.” Pussie simply dropped the tissue on the floor.
Doctor Stavefield entered the room. “Hello, ladies,” he greeted us. “Let’s get right to it; I have a Christmas party to go to tonight, so I won’t be able to spend much time with you. Who’d like to start?”
Gravedigger spoke up. “I don’t know what Alice did but somehow, she managed to shut Dottie up. I’m speaking for most of us, and we’d like to thank Alice. I think Dottie is what was keeping half of us crazy and we finally had a pleasurable day here today.”
“Well, that’s a remarkable thing for you to say, Gravedigger,” the doctor said. “It shows a valid human emotion and that’s commendable. Matter of fact, I’m going to make a notation of that.” He scribbled something down. “Do you have something to say, Alice?”
“You’re welcome,” I said. I was actually blushing, I was so grateful. Grateful that I was on Gravedigger’s good side.
“Fine, but would you like to comment on anything?” Stavefield persisted.
Oh shit. My turn to speak. I didn’t want these girls to think I was a softie so I decided to go for broke. Murder seemed to be the going thing and I went with it. “Uh…I really don’t like that guard, Gilda. She bothers me.” I said that last bit real spooky-like. “The last time someone bothered me so much, I made them commit suicide. The cops found out thooouughhh. They charged me with murrrderrr.” For some reason, I was relaying this in a singsong manner. Maybe it was adding a crazy-like emphasis. “Then they got me for drug deeaalinggg…”
“You deal drugs!” Pussie exclaimed. “I need just a bit. Do you have some?”
Before the doctor could speak, I put on a tough act. “Nah, they nailed me when I got to this place. Took 500 pill
s off me.” It was the truth.
The doctor was looking at me oddly. “Got a problem?” I asked belligerently. I didn’t want to hurt the doctor – I rather liked him. But I could sense a growing appreciation of me in the room, and I played it to the hilt.
“No, no problem,” the doctor murmured and made some notes on me. Uh oh. I hadn’t been quite expecting that, but I’d made my play and the ball was in his court now. “Anyone else?” the doctor asked.
Pussie spoke up, but she spoke directly to me. “I’m here because of a drug problem. I don’t know when to stop and have had over sixty overdoses. You know what got me in here? I broke into a pharmacy and I found so many good drugs and so many clean needles! I kept shooting up until I passed out. The pharmacist and two cops woke me up the next morning. That, and my bazillion prior convictions, got me in here.”
“That’s the most you’ve said since you did get here,” Stavefield observed. “That’s progress! I’m glad to hear you’ve decided your drug problem is real. Yes, I’ll note that too.” He scribbled some more and then stood up. “Excellent session, ladies. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He left.
I played shuffleboard with Gravedigger. She kept up a conversation and I sensed she was feeling me out. I kept lying like a rug.
* * *
Gravedigger woke me up with a light slap to the leg. I gasped and cowered, expecting my beating. Instead she good-naturedly said, “Get up, sleepyhead! It’s almost time for breakfast!” I got out of bed and finally used the washroom in the morning; I felt courageous enough.
Pussie followed me in. “So, Alice,” she whispered, “are you carrying?”
“Carrying?” I said aloud. “Carrying…what?”
“Anything,” she replied.
I looked down and saw my toothbrush and paste in my hand. “Just this,” I showed her.
“Shit. Do you have any connections in this place?” Pussie asked. It seemed she was coding her questions because I just wasn’t getting her drift.
“I guess I know a few people,” I replied. “If that’s what you mean…”
“We have to work out a plan,” Pussie said conspiringly.
“Sure,” I lied. I figured she was just being a loony. She turned to exit and I dropped a broad hint. “Pussie, there’s lots of toilet paper in the stall.” Didn’t she realize she was actually leaving a trail of pus?
She nodded, her eyes wide. “Yeahhh, that’s where we’ll hide whatever we get. Smart. Got it.” She obviously didn’t get it because she still walked out.
Breakfast was rather fun. I sat at a table with Dottie, Gravedigger and Rebecca. Everyone exchanged stories. I was actually sitting with people who had as many humiliations and degradations as I had. They were almost like kin. I humored them by telling them of different methods I’d use to kill Gilda.
I don’t know why ol’ Pegli had different piles because Gilda seemed to be permanently assigned to working the day shift in the women’s ward. For some odd reason, she seemed to have it in for me. I’m sorry, Gilda darling, but this is my first time in a mental institution, never mind a criminal one at that. Bear with me, s’il vous plait.
I found myself asking Gravedigger what she was doing during ‘yard time’. We were in the line-up, waiting for our turn to be searched for weapons, whether they be fork, knife or spoon.
“Rebecca and I got a meeting,” she said.
That dumbfounded me. “You can have MEETINGS here?”
“We got a plan,” Gravedigger said. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it tonight.” I nodded, although I wasn’t sure I wanted to get involved in any plan. I didn’t think I wanted to KNOW anything about the plan.
I walked around the yard and worked off my raison omelet. Pussie walked a bit with me but tired out after ten minutes. She sank to her spot on the wall and I meandered over to the stairwell. I was freezing and wanted to go inside. Granted, yard time had been reduced to an hour, but it was December in New York City! I stood quietly behind the large bulk of Gilda, squeezed into the staircase. She made a fine windblock.
I was only there a few minutes when a couple girls walked in front of me. They stopped and looked at me, only they didn’t seem to be overly friendly. I recognized them as a couple of smoochers I’d been seeing; grabbing a kiss or a quick feel whenever they could. So…I take it you want the stairwell? Well, I wasn’t into giving any of these girls at the institution a hard time, so I hunched all of my back muscles and wandered off into the cold.
“Hey! You! Come here!” Gilda commanded me.
I walked over. “What?” I said, not making a pretense of the fact I didn’t much care for her.
She stuck her hand out. “Help me up,” she said. Ohhh boy, I did not want to help her. I figured she was just too heavy to lift herself out so I walked closer and offered her my hand. I left it limp as she grabbed it and hoped no one was looking.
“Pull me!” she shrieked in a fierce whisper. “Pull me out!”
“Are you STUCK?” I stupidly asked. I found that to be hysterically funny and started laughing. It was the first belly laugh I’d had in three years. Gilda was fuming.
“If you don’t get me out, I’ll make sure you go to the mattress room,” Gilda warned.
Big deal, I thought. Still, her attitude sobered me up enough to reply, “Oh? And maybe I’ll just call all the girls over and we can all have a big laugh at you. Try and be nice once in a while. Maybe you’ll get your way more often with us.”
Gilda tried to soften up. “Alright, please help me out,” she said quite artificially.
Nah, she bugged me now. “Look, it’s fucking freezing out,” I said. It’s funny how quick you pick up prison jargon. “I’ll pull you out if you call us in right after. Otherwise…I’ll tell everyone.”
“Fine,” Gilda agreed. “Now get me out…please.” She may have gotten the better end of the deal or else I may have just been weak from hunger. Lifting 300 pounds is harder than it used to be. Finally she came out with a rip. We looked at each other quizzically and I noticed a huge tear in her blouse. I don’t think she saw it for the layers of fat. “Excuse yourself,” she ordered.
Of course, no ‘thank you’ emitted from her lips. Instead, a second later, I got the full force of her “Line up!” I was first in line and followed her up the stairs. Through the rip in her shirt, I could see she was a 54DD. Her bra looked more like a harness.
Pussie sat with me at lunch and regaled me with this lovely dream she’d had – she’d died and was a ghost and nobody could see her when she broke into their homes and consumed their drugs. I suggested she mention the dream to the doctor at session time; maybe he could analyze it. “Not necessary,” Pussie said. “I’ve analyzed it myself. Sign from God, showing me there is a heaven.”
The turnip mash at lunch really filled me up so I thought I’d lie down for a nap. I was almost into dreamtime when I caught part of a whispered conversation. “You goin’ on the list?” one girl asked.
“Oh yeah, count me in!” another girl excitedly replied.
“Good, that leaves three more names left to fill,” the first girl said. I drifted off to sleep.
And was awakened by Gilda screaming, “Line up!” beside my bed. She turned to glower at me and I wondered what happened to our brief peace. I groggily got into line and heard one girl ask another, “Didja get on the list?”
The other girl had a spasm. “YES!” she whispered, clutching her body with both arms. I wondered what this list was about and if I was on it. Gravedigger got into the line behind me and started up a quiet conversation on the way to the mess hall.
“You’re alright, Alice,” she said. “I heard what you did to Gilda this morning in the yard.”
I supposed she was referring to my helping Gilda out of a tight spot. You could say I was being a Good Samaritan, I guess.
“I was just there at the right time,” I calmly conceded.
“Yeah, and you let her have it, didn’t ya?” Gravedigger said. “Told her off good and proper
. If I wasn’t trying to get out of here, I’d have told her where to go months ago.”
“How’d you hear about it?” I asked her.
“Rona and Daphne,” she said. I looked confused. “You know, the two dykes. They were there. They heard everything.”
“Who’d they tell?” I asked.
“Everybody,” Gravedigger replied. “Which makes you a big gun around here.” Yeah, and it also made a big reason for Gilda to pick on me some more. By now, she’d have heard a few details and she was gonna think I broke my end of the deal. “Listen, ol’ Alice, ol’ palomino,” Gravedigger continued. “Remember this plan I told you I had? Sit with me after the doctor’s visit and I’ll fill you in, alright?”
“Sure,” I said to Gravedigger, new palomino, buddyomine, friendomine!
I could tell people were making gestures of friendship during supper because I got more gifts of refried beans than I could possibly eat. I wasn’t even going to eat my own.
In our recreation area, a spot was made vacant for me on the couch. I didn’t mind the folding chairs but I knew the couch was considered a ‘choice’ seat. The doctor rushed in and informed us he had to finish some Christmas shopping. It wasn’t a very good session, or a very long one. Katrina started crying because she found a black hair on her soap and she has blonde hair; thus someone is trying to poison her through her soap. I could tell the doctor didn’t want to waste time on her; he told her to join the real world and then said if anyone didn’t have any real problems to bring up, he’d see us tomorrow.
He left and I looked over at Gravedigger. She made a motion with her hand that told me to wait.
“Who wants a good game of shuffleboard?” Rebecca asked aloud.
I could see Pegli, who was finally our guard again, get excited. None of the girls responded so he piped up. “Come on, Rebecca, I’ll take you on.”
“Sure,” Rebecca said then lewdly asked. “What are we playing for?”
Pegli laughed. “If you think you can beat me, I’ll leave it up to you.” Rebecca rushed to the table.
Gravedigger steered me to the opposite corner and took out a pack of playing cards. “Now that Rebecca’s got his attention,” Gravedigger said, “I can tell you about this plan. You wanna get fucked? By a man?”